


Three Times M Talks Someone Into Wanking Until Orgasm – and One Time She Doesn't

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [24]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, Older Woman/Younger Man, Prompt Fic, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 06:43:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M is not the Ice Queen some people imagine her to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times M Talks Someone Into Wanking Until Orgasm – and One Time She Doesn't

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the bondkink comm on LJ. The prompt was _M calling the male character of your choosing - can be Brosnan!Bond / Craig!Bond, one of the Tanner incarnations, Villiers, Q, Robinson, Mallory, that guy who was played by Lionel Palmer and said she didn't have the balls to be in charge, Silva, ANYONE - into her office, and making them wank off in front of her as she talks dirty to them. She doesn't touch them or herself, just talks - maybe telling them they need to be punished, discussing missions in true Bond double entendre style, describing her previous sexual conquests/what she wants to do to them/what they want to do to her - until they come._
> 
> Suffice it to say it ran away with me!
> 
> Disclaimer: Oh how I WISH it was mine!

1\. (Dench!M/Kitchen!Tanner – post-Goldeneye)

It was late in the evening when M called her Chief of Staff, Bill Tanner, into her office. He strolled in, looking relaxed and at ease: his blue suit was rumpled, his tie half undone, and his blue-grey eyes sleepy.

"Take a seat, Mr Tanner," she instructed.

He obeyed and she moved around to the front of her desk, leaning her arse against the edge of it as she looked down at him. 

"Now get your cock out and have a wank."

Tanner's eyebrows shot up and he gaped at his boss. "Pardon?"

"I'm quite sure you heard me, Mr Tanner," M said. She glanced down at his lap and nodded. "Yes, I thought so. You did hear me – I can tell because you're getting hard. So take it out."

Tanner stood up and unfastened his trousers, slipping them down to reveal he wasn't wearing any underpants, then he sat back down and curled his hand around his semi-erect prick. M could see he was both bemused and somewhat embarrassed, but at the same time, he was also definitely aroused.

"You know, ever since you started working for me, I've wanted to have you. What I'd ultimately like to do is bend you over my desk and fuck your arse while you wank." Tanner groaned, his hand beginning to move, but she continued in an even tone, as if she was merely discussing going out to dinner with him. "Before I fucked you, though, I'd spank you, because if ever a man needed a good spanking, it's you. Your insubordinate tendencies are very pronounced."

"Christ!" muttered Tanner, his hand moving more quickly now.

"I wouldn't let you come, though, because that would spoil the anticipation. So you'd have to wear a cock ring of some sort. After I spanked you, I'd make you go down on me and use that very clever tongue of yours on my pussy until I came." As M spoke she felt herself growing wet and her nipples hardening, but she continued to talk, her gaze fixed avidly on Tanner.

"After I'd come, I'd bend you over my desk a second time, and that's when I'd slide my lovely strap-on cock into your arse and fuck you." She lifted an eyebrow. "Ever had it up the arse, Mr Tanner?"

Tanner groaned an incoherent reply as he began to come, his cock shooting out spurt after spurt of thick jizz. M made herself remain where she was, although she was tempted to step across to his chair and wrap her mouth around his prick so that she could suck him dry. She was seriously considering taking him back to her flat once she finished here: those long fingers, that very clever tongue, and especially that deliciously thick prick, would doubtless work magic on her body if she took Tanner home.

She reached for the strategically placed box of tissues on her desk and passed a handful over to him so he could clean himself up. Then she leaned forward and saw his gaze fasten on her cleavage. "So, Mr Tanner, have you ever taken it up the arse?"

"Yes ma'am." He was busy cleaning his cock, but he still had most of his attention on her, M noted.

"From a woman?"

He gave a quick nod. "And from a man."

"So you swing both ways, Mr Tanner?" she asked, filing that information away for later consideration when he nodded again.

"Well, you'd better get dressed," she said, moving around her desk and returning to her seat. "Got any plans for this evening?"

"No ma'am." There was a glimmer of desire in his eyes, she noticed.

"I'll be leaving in about half an hour. Come and have supper with me." She made the invitation sound as casual as she could.

"Thank you, I'd be delighted." He arched one eyebrow at her, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and she knew that he knew that she had rather more than supper in mind.

"Good." She gave him a nod of dismissal and made herself not watch his arse as he went out.

2\. (Dench!M/Kinnear!Tanner – pre-Skyfall)

"Mr Tanner," M acknowledges her Chief of Staff as he brings in the final report from Bond's latest mission. "Sit down."

He obeys, cradling his tablet computer in his arms, and she watches as he crosses one leg over the other. He is taller than his predecessor, with long slim legs and nice ankles. Her relationship with her previous Chief of Staff turned out to be very satisfactory as he was quite willing to service her every sexual need. She wonders if this new man will be as accommodating, and decides that tonight's as good a time as any to test the waters.

She takes a swift look at Tanner's report, then turns her attention back to the man. "When's Bond due back?"

Tanner unfolds his arms and glances down at the tablet. "Eleven thirty, ma'am."

She nods. "I think I'll stay on to debrief him," she says, laying unnecessary emphasis on her penultimate word and noting that Tanner flicks her a slightly uncertain look. "But you needn't stay."

"That's all right, ma'am. I don't mind."

"Well, the things is, Mr Tanner, that Bond and I have a very special relationship, the result of working so closely together for several years, and it's quite probable that his debriefing will take more than hour. We often find that I need to help him to relieve certain pressures before our debriefing is completed."

She's watching Tanner closely, and because his arms are folded across his chest, she's got a clear view of his lap. She notices when he uncrosses his legs, then shifts in his chair as if trying to accommodate his stiffening cock. 

She gets to her feet and moves around her desk to lean back against the edge: yes, Tanner's definitely aroused – the prominent bulge in his trousers confirms it.

"Of course, you've never attended an agent debriefing yet, have you?"

"No ma'am."

"Perhaps it would be a good idea for me to give you a brief overview, then."

He nods, running a finger around inside his collar, and she fights a smirk.

"Why don't you make yourself more comfortable first, Mr Tanner?"

He gives her an enquiring look and she nods down at his crotch. "You look like you need to relieve some pressure of your own," she observes.

He blushes and drops his hand in an attempt to cover his growing arousal. 

"Don't mind me," M says. "In fact, be my guest. I am sure that by the time I've finished explaining to you the debriefing process which I use with Bond that you'll be very glad you took the opportunity to deal with your issue."

He hesitates for a long moment, then puts his tablet down on the floor alongside his chair before standing up and unfastening his trousers. He's wearing pale blue boxer shorts, and his cock is poking stiffly through the front opening. He wraps his long, slim fingers around the shaft and begins to stroke his prick. M smiles.

"Mr Bond is a very special sort of agent, and I make special allowances for him as a consequence. Often he comes back from a mission horny as hell, and we have a good hard fuck on my sofa as part of his debriefing. Lately I've begun fucking Bond's arse – he enjoys that, especially if I precede the fucking with an intense spanking first."

Tanner groans and M wonders if he'd enjoy being spanked and fucked up the arse as much as Bond does. She's aware of her own growing arousal: her stiffening nipples and her soaked pussy, but she makes no move to relieve her own tension. 

By the time she's finished describing some of the things she and Bond do together, Tanner's climaxed, cum spurting out of his cock to coat his hand and drip onto his boxer shorts. M passes him some tissues and after he's cleaned up, sends him home, with the promise that she will debrief Tanner herself in another day or two.

3\. (Dench!M/Mallory – Skyfall missing scene)

Bond is missing, presumed dead, and M is no mood to deal with a smart-arse like Mallory when he turns up at her office one evening. He may be a former Lieutenant Colonel with a good deal of intelligence, and a well-muscled body beneath his suit, but he's also head of the Intelligence and Security Committee, and she has no interest in placating him.

To her surprise he ignores the hostile and disdainful manner with which she greets him as he sets down a flask and a brown paper bag on the corner of her desk. There's a scent of raisin and cinnamon rising from the bag, and she feels her mouth beginning to water.

"What's this?" she asks, nodding at the bag and flask.

"Very good coffee, hot, and some warm raisin and cinnamon pastries." He quirks a smile at her. "Call it a peace offering, if you like."

"Have a seat."

His smile broadens, as if he considers this an acceptance of his olive branch; M pours them both some of the coffee, then opens the bag and finds herself inhaling deeply. When she looks up, Mallory's smirking at her, obviously believing that he's scored a point. She notes the way he's sitting: his legs are spread open, with his feet resting flat against the chairlegs, and his trousers are pulled tight at his crotch. Because of the way the cloth is positioned it clearly outlines the bulge of his cock, and M has to force herself to tear her gaze away. She passes him one of the mugs of coffee, then holds out the bag of pastries, keeping her eyes locked firmly on his face.

"Thank you." He takes a pastry and rests it on the arm of his chair, then begins a conversation about the missing data drive.

M doesn't resume her seat, but instead moves to the front of her desk, leaning back against the edge of it; this gives her a psychological advantage as she's now taller than the seated Mallory, which makes her feel stronger and more confident as they converse.

Mallory drinks his coffee and eats his pastry, shedding little flakes occasionally, and M is unable to help noticing that most of them have ended up on his trousers. She also notices that the bulge of his cock seems more prominent, but she tells herself she's imagining things. She can't help watching in fascination, though, when Mallory begins brushing away the pastry crumbs, his long-fingered hand stroking back and forth with deliberate slowness. 

His hand stops moving, lying across the hard length of his arousal, and she looks up to see him gazing at her. He slowly sets the empty coffee mug down on the floor beside his chair, then he unzips his trousers, and M licks her lips in anticipation as Mallory eases his cock free. It's large and hard, and he seems completely unselfconscious as he begins to fist his prick.

"You know," Mallory says casually, "you've got this reputation of being a bit of an ice-queen, but I bet you've had a few men in your time, in addition to your late husband. Tell me about your conquests."

M is surprised by how much she's turned on by his behaviour, but she doesn’t hesitate to fill in the details, without naming any names, as Mallory's hand moves up and down on his cock. By the time she's nearly at the end of her recital she wants nothing more than to straddle his lap and sink down onto his cock so that he can fill her with his spunk, but she remains where she is, watching as he pumps it into the handkerchief he's pulled from his pocket.

He cleans himself up, tucks his now flaccid cock back into his trousers and gets to his feet. Zipping up his trousers, he steps into her personal space and leans in to give her a hard, hungry kiss. "Any time you want a repeat performance, or some personal attention, ring me," he tells her, then he goes off, whistling cheerily.

Maybe working with Mallory won't be so bad after all, she muses.

4\. (Dench!M/Craig!Bond – post-QoS)

M walks into her darkened office without bothering to switch on the light; it's late and she's shattered after a day of wrangling with bureaucrats who ought to be strangled with their own red tape. She's about to reach out to switch on the desk lamp when a slight noise alerts her to the fact that someone else is in the office with her.

"Who's there?" she demands sharply, feeling her heart leap into her throat.

"Hello M." The voice is husky but recognisably that of Bond. 

She flicks the light switch and stares at him across the desk. "What the hell are you trying to do, Bond, scare me to death?" she demands, as angry at herself for her reaction as she is at him for provoking it.

"Sorry." His tone is perfunctory, as if he doesn't care how angry, or worried, or exhausted she might be.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, sinking down into her chair. All she really wants is to put her feet up on the desk and relax with a drink; dealing with Bond was not on her evening's agenda. She looks more closely at him; it's the first time she's seen him since he walked off into the snow in Russia, telling her that he'd 'never left', and although he looks more peaceful than he did after losing Vesper Lynd, there's still a darkness in his eyes and a tightness in his jaw that indicates he's not yet 100%.

"Reporting for duty, ma'am," he says, as if that's sufficient explanation.

She sighs. "You couldn't wait until the morning?" 

He gets to his feet. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, ma'am."

"Oh, sit down Bond." Sometimes he's as sulky and defiant as a teenager, she thinks, although she remembers him as a teenager, and he was never sulky or defiant then. "Drink?"

He looks at her for a long moment, then sinks back down into the chair with a nod. She gets up and pours them both a healthy measure of Scotch, then carries the glasses around the desk and hands him one.

"Let's sit on the sofa," she says. "I've had a bloody knackering day and want to kick my shoes off and put my feet up."

He gives a startled laugh at that, then follows her across to the leather sofa, sprawling onto it with his legs akimbo. She kicks off her shoes with a sigh, then puts her feet up on the coffee table and takes a long swallow of the whiskey. 

"What was so knackering about your day?" he asks after taking a smaller mouthful of his own.

She tells him about the bureaucrats, and he's so sympathetic that she allows herself to be more caustic than usual at their expense. She keeps flexing her feet, trying to ease the ache from her shoes, but it's not really helping.

Bond gets to his feet and she thinks he's either going to fetch the whiskey decanter, or going to leave, but instead he sits down on the coffee table and lifts her feet up to rest on his knees before beginning to give her the most exquisite foot massage.

"Oh God, James!" The exclamation is purely involuntary, a moan of relief but with a hint of sexual arousal because there's no doubt he's turning her on.

He smirks at her, looking more like his usual self, and shifts his hands to her ankles, then begins to slide one hand up as far as the back of her knee. He strokes her skin there, and M shudders in pleasure. She stares up at him as he leans forward, and lifts her head to meet his mouth with hers as he kisses her hard and hungrily. His right hand continues to slide up her leg, his thumb brushing along her inner thigh, and then he's rubbing his fingertips up and down her slit. 

"Fuck!" she gasps, dragging her mouth from his as he quickly brings her to orgasm.

"Do you want to?" he murmurs against her mouth.

"Yes." 

He manoeuvres her around so that she's lying full length on the sofa, then reaches up under her skirt to slide off her silk French knickers. He remains sitting on the edge of the sofa as he removes his suit jacket, drags off his tie, and then pulls off his shoes. He stands and unfastens his trousers, and M can see he's already very hard.

He sits beside her again and slips his hand back under her skirt; she quickly realises that he's working his hand in and out of her soaking pussy in order to get some lubrication for his cock. She watches as he rubs her juices onto his prick, and then he's moving his body over hers to ease his way into her.

She groans as he fills her, slowly sliding his wonderful cock into her throbbing, aching pussy. He leans down to kiss her with less savagery than she'd expected, and then begins to thrust. 

M has fucked Bond on a good many occasions, but this is the gentlest he's ever been, and she suddenly wonders if she's the first woman he's had since losing Vesper. She resolves not to ask, realising that she'd rather not know either way. Instead she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his mouth, and cheek, and bites his ear as he continues to move inside her.

He brings her to a second orgasm before reaching his own climax, and as he shudders in completion, she pulls his body down to rest on top of hers.

"Feeling better?" he asks quietly.

"Yes, thank you. Turns out sex is a good cure for bureaucratic crap. You?"

He laughs, sounding genuinely amused, then agrees that he feels better too.

"Good. Let's get out of here, then. I'm ravenously hungry."

He laughs again, then lifts himself off her, before pulling her upright. She cups his cheek with her palm, then leans in to give him the tenderest kiss she's ever bestowed on him.

"Welcome back, James."

"Thank you."


End file.
